


Hemophobia

by notavodkashot



Series: Old Archive [10]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notavodkashot/pseuds/notavodkashot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shinra wants to push at Izaya’s limits. Izaya has never really learned to say no to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hemophobia

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally written in 2011]

“Now you just have to hold it here,” Shinra’s voice licks the insides of Izaya’s skull, fingers entwined with his around the scalpel handle. “And _press_.”  
  
The blade barely breaks skin, trailing down a line along Shinra’s side, well above an old, faded scar. It doesn’t matter, though. It doesn’t matter because the moment skin breaks, blood blooms in place and Izaya’s breath gets itself knotted up somewhere up his throat.  
  
“If you shake,” Shinra says, voice lower, breathing deeper, aroused. “It’ll hurt more.”  
  
Izaya manages perhaps five seconds more, holding onto the scalpel, staring at the blood already clogging up and closing the small cut. Then he throws the offending blade away, and Shinra laughs from the comfort of his lap, even as hand sinks into his hair, pulling back almost painfully, but not. It’s always like that, with Izaya. Almost painful, but not. Almost sincere, but not. Almost hateful, but not. Shinra hisses at the teeth sinking on his shoulder, in reproach, when he smears the remnants of his blood all over his side. He knows the scent of it coils in Izaya’s nostrils, along with the musk of arousal and the faint antiseptic tang.  
  
“Hate you,” Izaya whispers, confesses, swears, promises, when Shinra raises his hips above his, inviting the inevitable. “ _Fuck_ , I hate you.”  
  
Shinra laughs as they fuck, all sharp thrusts and digging nails and crusted blood and slick warmth. Izaya hides his face behind his shoulder and his hair, and mentally checkmates himself, over and over again.


End file.
